Mr. Stoneham waved his hand towards the parlour, to which apartment
Gilbert descended. Here he found Mrs. Stoneham, a meek little
sandy-haired woman, who seemed to be borne down by the weight of her
lord's dignity; and Miss Stoneham, also meek and sandy, with a great many
stiff little corkscrew ringlets budding out all over her head and a sharp
little inquiring nose.

These ladies would have retired on Gilbert's entrance, but he begged them
to remain; and after a good deal of polite hesitation they consented to
do so, Mrs. Stoneham resuming her seat before the tea-tray, and Miss
Stoneham retiring to a little table by the window, where she was engaged
in trimming a bonnet.

"I want to know all about this marriage, Mr. Stoneham," Gilbert began,
when he had seated himself in a shining mahogany arm-chair by the empty
fire-place. "First and foremost, I want you to tell me where Mr. and Mrs.
Holbrook are now living."

The parish-clerk shook his head with a stately slowness.

"Not to be done, sir," he said: "when Mr. and Mrs. Holbrook left here
they went the Lord knows where. They went away the very day they were
married. There was a fly waiting for them at the church-door, with their
luggage upon it, when the ceremony was over, ready to drive them to
Grangewick station. I saw them get into it and drive away; and that's
every mortal thing that I know as to what became of them after they were
married in yonder church."

"You don't know who this Mr. Holbrook is?"